


i just needed company now (i just needed someone around)

by far2late



Series: comfort crowd [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Arguing, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Crying, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dead Wilbur Soot, Demon Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inner Dialogue, Loneliness, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, No Fluff, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Psychological Trauma, References to Depression, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sort Of, Suicide Attempt, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit-centric, Trauma, Unresolved Tension, Unresolved Trauma, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, d - Freeform, go away, no beta i never beta ever, no dream apologists in my comments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:55:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late
Summary: "It was one of the few memories that had always left him with his heart twisting painfully in his chest, rather than being a new development that had come along with his change in location. Tommy didn’t realize how easy it was for memories to be tainted before, but this was certainly proof enough that anything could be ruined if someone had tried hard enough. Maybe it was a challenge Dream was trying to complete amongst him and other tyrannical beings that made their place in the server; how many childhoods could they ruin in the span of a week?Dream had certainly ruined Tommy’s. As did Wilbur, when he was alive, and Technoblade. And Schlatt and Phil. And Sapnap as well, actually. Few had done a good job of trying to cheer Tommy up consistently, he was starting to realize. He ignored the name that burnt in the back of his mind in unison with his eyes, rubbing away the beginning of tears to huddle under his blanket, pulling it tighter to his shoulders in the hope that the cold wouldn’t bite so harshly through his clothes."ortommy's slow spiral during exile and the way the tides roar against him
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: comfort crowd [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052558
Comments: 43
Kudos: 880
Collections: Completed stories I've read, Found family to make me feel something, MCYT Fic Rec





	i just needed company now (i just needed someone around)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [warmth from any other source](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965435) by [cacowhistle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cacowhistle/pseuds/cacowhistle). 



> tw // suicide attempt, suicide ideation, reference to non-graphic self-harm, subtle manipulation, breakdowns, anything else i tagged that you would be uncomfortable with. stay safe <3

Tommy found himself shuddering in his ratty tent, not a few weeks after Dream had left him stranded alone on an island far off from civilization, ignoring the pelting rain that sounded like footsteps thudding against the sides of his tent in favour of huddling around an oil lamp left in the middle of the area to preserve heat. The cold weather seeping in from fall did no favours for his already horrid state, leaving the teen with more problems than just mental to deal with. He couldn’t help but be horribly jealous of Ghostbur in the process, who was floating in the rain and dancing in it as it pelted straight through his translucent form, kicking up dirt on the path he made in the process. He had half a mind to tell the ghost off, but his lack of willpower to drag himself out in the rain kept him where he was. 

The exile hadn’t been kind to him, not just in terms of weather. The weather was probably the more forgiving part of the island, ironically. It left his crops watered and flourishing, not rotting and small like they did in L’manberg when left to their own devices. It hardly rained there before, often seen as an occasion in the country rather than something to complain about. He could easily recall the times he, Jack, Tubbo, and Purpled would run through the rains together and laugh as they slipped in mud-soaked clothes, uniforms tucked away. Purpled’s hoodie was usual so messed up at the end that you could barely tell where he had gotten his nickname from, despite the violet eyes to match. 

It was one of the few memories that had always left him with his heart twisting painfully in his chest, rather than being a new development that had come along with his change in location. Tommy didn’t realize how easy it was for memories to be tainted before, but this was certainly proof enough that anything could be ruined if someone had tried hard enough. Maybe it was a challenge Dream was trying to complete amongst him and other tyrannical beings that made their place in the server; how many childhoods could they ruin in the span of a week? 

Dream had certainly ruined Tommy’s. As did Wilbur, when he was alive, and Technoblade. And Schlatt and Phil. And Sapnap as well, actually. Few had done a good job of trying to cheer Tommy up consistently, he was starting to realize. He ignored the name that burnt in the back of his mind in unison with his eyes, rubbing away the beginning of tears to huddle under his blanket, pulling it tighter to his shoulders in the hope that the cold wouldn’t bite so harshly through his clothes. 

He was left shivering, teeth clattering against each other noisily and practically vibrating as cold waves hit his body from the feet up, engulfing him with such white noise he could hardly believe he was still conscious. If only there were a way to sleep through a snowstorm, Tommy lamented. He had known it was impossible for a while now, but it didn’t hurt to hope. It might not have even been because of the cold, but for the fact that he might end up biting his tongue off if he wasn’t careful and his teeth chattered in the night. 

Tommy side-eyed the flap of the tent blowing harshly in the rain, peeking through the gap to spy on Ghostbur. The sliver of space he had to look through was barely enough to see the nether portal, let alone the path that he was dancing on earlier. Maybe he was still out there, in his own little world with few memories and piles of blue to hand out to everyone he came across. Tommy was almost envious of the way he could forget everything he could do, with almost no consequence besides going with Tommy in his exile, and even that was intentional.    
  
It painted an eerily familiar picture that Tommy had shaken his head harshly to get rid of, ignoring the idea of Pogtopia and Technoblade and stacks of TNT, wild eyes and brown coats in favour of focusing on himself and what he would do. 

Dream had already blown up whatever armour he was planning on using, along with all his useful tools and things that would help him get anywhere near the man’s level. The only thing that seemed safe from his sticks of TNT was probably Netherite, and Tommy barely got to  _ diamond  _ armour fast enough before he was being demanded to throw his remaining iron scraps into another hole to be blown up.

Maybe he could hide some, he hoped half-heartedly. It was wishful thinking on his part, to hope that he would get free time away from Dream completely. Ironic in the way that it was only Dream that had bothered to visit him and Ghostbur now. The only other people who he’d like to see were all far off in L’manberg, where he couldn’t reach or speak to them. Even Sapnap, probably the only one who would be allowed to come through in favour of Dream, hadn’t bothered to see the teen, despite his lament that they would stay friends after everything that happened. 

Tommy had actually missed Sapnap over the course of the unfolding action that would stain the lands of the SMP, despite his harsh stance against him and the way he had taken Mars captive in spite of him. It had been a while since they had seen each other at that point, and nerves from being cooped up with Techno and Wilbur had been eating at his own decision-making skills, leading to the state of their frayed relationship. It had been on its last feet at some point, before one afternoon they had finally fought it all out. Tommy had been honourable, of course, giving Sapnap Mars on the condition that he would do what was best for his pet. 

  
He was glad the teen agreed. It wasn’t fair how many innocent things were being dragged into their own petty disputes. A flash of brown and white patchy fur crossed his mind before Tommy had pushed that thought down. It wasn’t his turn to be upset, he told himself, watching Sapnap pour his fish into the ocean, it was Sapnap’s. And he deserved a good cry for everything that had happened. 

Tommy wondered when he had last been offered a shoulder to cry on, and realized he didn’t want to know. 

He was snapped from his thoughts almost an hour later, eyes red and eyebags heavy as the front of his tent was drawn back by a translucent, pasty hand, paired with a vibrant yellow sweater that barely matched his melancholy colour palette. Tommy looked up to meet Ghostbur’s eyes, not surprised that the spirit hadn’t stopped smiling. He seemed particularly happy, and he moved back slightly as Tommy shifted to turn to him, hiding something behind his back. 

“Tommy!” He greeted, voice echoing slightly as his voice bounced around in empty lungs. “I’ve got something for you.” Ghostbur’s voice was pleasant and scratched a small part of his brain in a way that made things make sense, so Tommy hummed an acknowledgement so he would continue. 

“I’ve been thinking recently, and noticed a lot as well! I didn’t forget any of it this time, either, isn’t that great?” He added on, floating just outside the tent. Tommy didn’t budge from his pile of blankets, wrapped tight around his body. “Anyway, I had noticed that you’ve been cold the past couple of days. I know that would suck, ‘specially ‘cause of the rain and how much it’s been pissing it down the past weeks. So, I found you a jacket!” 

Ghostbur moved forward to present the garment to Tommy, who froze when he caught sight of the familiar dark brown and off-white fur lining the inside of the collar. His mouth went dry as his eyes followed the rest of the coat, spotting a slightly darker spot in the back of the jacket, as well as a well-done sewing job to fix the back where it had been torn (cut). Tommy’s mind echoed the same phrase over and over as his shaking hands reached out for it on autopilot, grasping onto the fabric that represented his older brother so harshly that his knuckles turned white. 

At the end of the day, despite Ghostbur being around for so long in place of Wilbur, he was never really  _ Wilbur,  _ only sharing the same face. Ghostbur held none of Wilbur’s sass, nor his encouraging yet demeaning words that were so well-placed in sentences that it was as though the tutoring they had gained under Phil’s watch had never left. It probably never had, but Ghostbur remembered little of it. Wilbur knew how to cheer Tommy up, knew when he needed to spar and when he needed to talk to get his frustrations out. Wilbur took note of how he laughed loudest in the presence of all his friends rather than alone, and made careful note of how to take care of his little brother.

Even insane and on the end of his rope, he was still Wilbur. He still made fun of him for calling him that stupid nickname, still made a note to pit him against Techno the way they had as kids. Made sure that the ravine was lit up well-enough that Tommy wouldn’t be scared to go to bed, and kept the gunpowder he was making his TNT with away from his quarters to he wouldn’t wake up in a cold sweat with panic in his eyes and little air in his lungs. 

At the end of the day, Ghostbur was a cold shadow of what Wilbur was, only ever smiling and laughing and prancing around making potions. He was nothing that Wilbur was, barely arguing back and throwing blue at him when he was sad. Tommy’s hands were stained lapis as he rubbed his face in an attempt to rid himself of tears that wouldn’t stop coming while Ghostbur watched idly, eyes blank and a smile still on his face.

Tommy stared down at the jacket, shaking thumbs rubbing circles into the material as he brought it up to his face, burying his mouth and nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply. His eyes burnt as he recognized campfire, cologne, gunpowder and the faintest hint of blood. It was enough for him to muffle cries into the fabric, keening over his stomach to fold down and hug the jacket close to him, tears leaking from his eyes. His arms shook, his cries grew slowly louder as Tommy struggled to keep a cap on his emotion. 

His sobs turned to screams as the past weeks had caught up to him, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come as Ghostbur left in the span of a few minutes, leaving his throat dry and aching as he struggled to catch any semblance of air to keep his heart pumping. Tommy could feel ants crawling under his skin that repeated the one phrase that haunted him as his heart argued for the brother he loved before things went back. 

All of it was just  _ Let’s be the bad guys  _ and  _ I bet you can’t beat me in chess!  _ It was  _ I want to be your vassal, Dream,  _ versus  _ C’mere, I want to show you a new song I’ve written.  _ It was always  _ It was never meant to be  _ versus  _ We’re family, Toms. I won’t leave you alone.  _

And at the end of the day, Ghostbur wasn’t Wilbur, and Wilbur was gone. Ghostbur was already gone, far away from his show of emotion where Wilbur would have offered a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold, maybe even an ear to listen to his problems through snot-filled sobs and ugly twisted faces that came along with the release of his emotions. Ghostbur was nothing compared to Wilbur, but he was still the only one who was there for him. And the only one who shared his brother’s face.

The next day, the coat laid overtop Tommy’s dirtied clothes, overlapping the red and white sweater and leaving him eerily close to mirroring his older brother in his starting stages of insanity. The sleeves were rolled up and it hadn’t been washed before he wore it, terrified that the scent would fade if he dared put it near any form of soap. It was something he made sure to take account of, even trying to brew his own shitty potion to seal the smell into the clothes permanently. The obsessive behaviour following that night was eerily similar to the way Wilbur had deteriorated during his spiral into chaos. Tommy knew he wouldn’t go insane, was the only difference. 

In the back of his mind, he idly wondered if Wilbur had thought the same thing. 

* * *

Bad had visited him. 

Of all the people Tommy had expected to come see him, he wasn’t even thinking to put Bad on the list. In his mind, the demon-born would likely be happy he was gone simply for the peace of mind it brought and the shouting that had reduced ten-fold when he wasn’t there to interrupt all the going-on that would be important to the Badlands, or whatever they had named their faction of four. He wasn’t sure if Sam had been included in the bunch but he assumed so. 

From a political point of view, Tommy’s banishment was the perfect opportunity for the Badlands to take bits and pieces of L’Manberg territory as their own. They were on weak legs and had little material-wise, save for Ranboo and Fundy, whom they outmatched by a mile in combat. Sam was one to save and make preparations for ages, so even in the chance they were outnumbered, potions and food alone would end up beating them in the end. 

Sam was someone that Tommy had thought upon fondly, in comparison to most people who swarmed these lands. He was a solid person, towering over him in height yet still gentle and caring in his own sense. He had gotten close with Tubbo over the span of a few weeks before and after the war against Schlatt. It was certainly something that had been a surprise on their end, but Tommy slowly became accustomed to the man overtime as well. 

He was easy to joke around with, easy to make conversation with and someone who was naturally trustworthy. More than once Tommy had the urge to spill his problems to the man as though he were Tubbo or Purpled, despite how little they had known each other for. Sam was the one to give him constant food, to wish him well when he saw him, to hand out valuables to the rest of the SMP like it was nothing simply because they had asked. The creeper hybrid even made sure not to wander too close to other people’s homes in the fear that he would end up setting off any explosives by accident. 

Of all people he thought was going to visit more, it would have been Sam out of everyone. Maybe Quackity, but he was busy in the cabinet and was making plans to fight once more. Tommy wasn’t sure what he was fighting for this time, and he had little energy left to care. He would even expect someone like Skeppy to visit before Bad did, with how little faith he had in the demon-born showing up at his campsite. 

Which is why it was a surprise to see Bad messing with a chest nearby his campsite. Tommy had half-a-mind to go over with his axe swinging, leaving little to no mercy for the demon-born that had turned his back to Tommy. He decided against it as a jolt of loneliness stabbed his stomach in a way that made him want to curl up and forget everything he had done to get to this point. 

“Bad?” He questioned as he had walked closer to the black-clad supernatural, watching him jump slightly as his knuckles turned slightly more white, near translucent in comparison to his back fingers making a gradient up to his palm. He stood up straight, greeting Tommy with a familiar smile lined with sharp teeth and no malice behind it. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Visiting,” Bad replied matter-of-factly, a stupid smile on his face as he seemed to remember the chest behind him. “And I brought a gift! Like early Christmas, y’know?” 

Tommy gave him a deadpan stare, eyes half-open as a small ball of anger grew in his stomach, begging to be let out at someone just to relieve himself of the tension that came with righteous rage. He looked at the chest, eyes narrow and glaring as his gaze swung back to the demon-born. 

“You’re over here just to give me pity shit?” He questioned, voice rising in volume for the first time in a week since he had been sent off. Bad shook his eyes, a small note of ‘language’ not escaping Tommy’s earshot. 

“No, you muffin head. A  _ gift, _ ” Bad clarified, arms crossing over his chest as his pointed tail whipped back and forth behind him, thin and snake-like in nature. Tommy rolled his eyes at the familiar term, moving to point his diamond axe at the demon-born. 

“You’re just here to give me shit ‘cause you feel bad, man, just leave me alone if you’re gonna come over to feel bad for me,” Tommy started off, words growing gradually faster as he continued speaking, frustrated at the way everything was playing out. “Acting like I can’t do a good job on my own, I’ve been on my own before and I’ve fuckin’ survived and shit, I’m  _ fine,  _ I don’t need hand-outs from  _ you _ -“

His words were interrupted by the sound of a Void being summoned, watching the demon-born with wary eyes as he opened up a Void of storage, or just a reach into an alternate universe and stuck a withered hand into the depths of the worm-hole like portal and pulling out a small, hand-sized version of an ender chest. The Void disappeared with the wave of a hand and Bad cupped both hands around the object and blew on the top lightly, mist and glowing bits of magical aura escaping alongside carbon. 

The chest began to grow, Bad setting it down on the ground as it grew it a full-sized chest, not batting an eye at the magic he had performed so easily, as though it were an everyday thing that Tommy had seen. Bad waited for familiar purple particles to infect the air before nodding to himself, satisfied as he opened the Enderchest and reached into its depths, pulling out something that looked hauntingly familiar.

Black vinyl, large, circular and lightweight. Tommy’s mind went blank as Bad rested it in his open hands. Tommy hadn’t even realized he dropped his axe at the moment he had seen the vinyl, thumbs rubbing over the disk gently. 

“Which one is this?” He asked, mouth dry as he wet his lips in an attempt to rid the aftertaste of sorrow from his tongue. Bad shrugged, closing the chest and pulling out a thrumming netherite pickaxe in preparation to take the chest away. 

“Chirp, I’m pretty sure. I knew you liked disks, I figured you should have something to keep you company.” Tommy couldn’t rip his eyes from the black vinyl, only pausing to look up at the chest that Bad had been messing with, looking inside to find logs and a couple bits of diamond, melted down into feasible shapes. Tommy immediately put the disk aside, carefully letting it lie down on the cleaned-up stump of a tree that had previously been chopped down and making his way over to a crafting bench, saw in hand and diamonds laid heavy in his pocket. 

Bad kept an eye on what he was doing curiously, watching as the teen went through the process of making himself a jukebox, muscle memory taking over his actions as he sawed away at the logs he had. Tommy cut them into several pieces, taking a hold of a hammer and nails to shoddily nail together the wood frame and make sure the pieces would hold. 

Tommy paused in his actions and turned to Bad, who looked at him with a slightly wary gaze. The teen gestured to his axe, held up behind his back, and spoke quietly, voice apprehensive. 

“Can you make the panels?” He asked, hands already working to make the inner workings of the jukebox that he needed to play the disk itself. Bad nodded, unsheathing the netherite tool and getting to work as Tommy continued onwards in his task, hands cupped around the diamond chunk he had. 

The demon-born worked on making the panels sizable enough to fit into the medium-sized wooden frame that Tommy had given him to work with. The frame itself was neat despite the few minutes it had taken him to build, showing clearly how he was incredibly used to making jukeboxes in comparison to Sam’s profanity with Redstone and Dream’s natural talent when it came to hand-crafting axes and crossbows. 

Working with Bad was peaceful, for the most part. Neither of them spoke and the only noise was their respective tools clinking against their materials. Tommy’s knife scraped against diamonds and iron and Bad’s axe made careful incisions to carve down the wooden panels. 

“One of the panels has to have a slot that fits the disks,” Tommy said out of the blue, Bad turning to face him, “So measure the disk and cut it right.” 

Bad nodded, and that was that. 

Tommy moved back from the crafting bench almost half-an-hour later, shoving a pocket knife in his jacket after sheathing it. He made careful note not to let Wilbur’s jacket break any more in his care. He gestured for Bad to come over, carefully moving the inner workings of the jukebox and setting it down inside his wooden frame, all the panelling but the topmost part installed. He messed around with it for a moment before Bad put the last panel on, securing it with a hammer and nails. 

The teen picked up the disk from where he had left it, the sun setting into the ocean at this point, leaving him with red-painted skies and clouds that were faded violet. Tommy pressed the disk into the slot, sliding down to sit in the grass as he moved to lie on his back, looking up to the sky with half-open eyes and arms folded over his stomach, the action echoed by Bad on the opposite side of the jukebox as it clicked. 

The disk played, and Tommy’s mind wandered. 

The opening chords were vaguely reminiscent of something from older times, leaving him to think of vintage things and places where things were obsolete. It certainly was the type of song to engulf your mind with wanderlust rather than crippling sadness in the way Mellohi’s dissonant chords often had. The song was reminiscent of the one that had gone on about Major Tom and ground patrol that Wilbur had been quite fond of. He didn’t remember the name himself, but it was a family favourite back in the arctic when things were simpler and bonds were held together with red string and hadn’t been collapsible. The nostalgia that had hit him was nearly enough to make him yank the disk out of the jukebox, but he stayed where he was, eyes locked onto the stars.

It was something weird to realize just how alone you were in the grand scheme of things, Tommy decided numbly, eyes wandering over the clouds with a soreness accompanying them that he wished he could erase. It was detrimental to his process of little to no sleep, but he didn’t care enough to fix it. The only thing that held his attention was his friends and his attempts to get back to them. 

Every time he felt like he was even one step closer in the right direction, he was pushed harshly back into an obsidian wall that would block his progress and make it even harder to get past the imaginary walls that were so hard to tackle. There was pain and blood and tears put into every plan and process and movement, but with a snap of someone’s fingers, they would be gone in an instant. 

Dream was the one who had been showing it the most, recently, with his frequent instructions to throw his armour in a hole and let him blow it up with TNT and a fire aspect bow. It was almost a requirement for him, really, with how he had replaced nearly three sets of iron armour a week for the past month. The time never really factored into anything that Tommy did nowadays, not since he stopped sleeping, but it was still good for keeping track of how long he had been away from home. 

His thoughts drifted away from L’manberg as the song transitioned into its bridge, the sound hugging Tommy with gentle arms he wished he could replicate in real life without cradling himself. He could almost hear humming in his ears as the wind rustled the long grass he laid in, so long it almost hid him completely from view, if not for his dark coat in comparison to dull green grass. The terrain moulded into space and stars beneath him and he felt the moon hug him in her gentle embrace with a fondness he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“This song reminds me of a cosmic… woman,” Tommy stated once, interrupting the music as Bad made a confused noise at the remark. He shrugged the judgement off, eyes wandering to the stars as he drew a smile into the glittering bits of gas and sun that kept him alive. 

“Named Clara,” He added half-heartedly, hands curling together on his stomach and lacing each other comfortably. Bad chose not to comment, recognizing the tone in his voice that had been something more vulnerable than anything he had ever heard from Tommy beforehand. It was jarring, and Bad found himself missing the loud teen he was before being banished here. 

Tommy missed him too, sometimes. He was sure that somewhere else, he was worth more, but for now, he was tired. He was louder and happier in another dimension somewhere far off. But he would rather be with Clara than go searching for his old self at the moment. So he laid in the grass, eyes closed as the moon followed its path into the sky. 

* * *

Dream came along a while after the disk had been given to him, accompanied with Sapnap. Tommy was initially surprised at the sight of the older teen following after Dream but accepted it quietly once the teen had finally come through the portal and given him a half-wave. Dream watched the interaction with half-lidded eyes, the new coat not going unnoticed during his quick survey of his apparel. It was under a set of almost new iron armour, though the boots were mud-covered from the rain a few weeks prior. 

Tommy had already begun to strip himself off his armour automatically, leaving Sapnap confused for a moment before recognition coloured his eyes as Dream dug himself a hole in the terrain, the teen dumping his things down the small pit. The TNT was lit and dropped into the hole, exploding and shaking the ground beneath their feet slightly as the recognizable sound of iron shattering echoed in the small cave. Ghostbur was watching from farther off: the ghost wasn’t the biggest fan of TNT, which Tommy could understand. He was pretty sure that was why Dream had never bothered using fire or lava in his little ritual. 

“Did you see how bad it was raining the other week, Tommy?” Sapnap asked conversationally, wandering around his messed-up campsite and nudging a soaked log from his campfire with one foot. Tommy hummed a positive, eyes sweeping over the area. They were sore in the way that rubbing them wouldn’t help to make them feel anew, the type of hurting that came from little sleep and harder thoughts rather than lack of moisture. 

“Yeah. Was pissing it down, had to grab a coat and all to keep warm. Don’t even know where Ghostbur got it, stupid thief,” He rambled after clearing his throat, drawing back a little when Dream had moved back from the portal to join his side. He was certain the man had noticed and was probably taking joy in it. The only difference was how laidback the supernatural was being in his presence, rather than being the one to set him off as he usually did. Maybe he was finally taking pity on the teen, pushed to his very lowest by the one person he had trusted above everyone else. 

Tubbo wasn’t someone he liked to think about nowadays. 

“You need help with your crops?” Dream’s voice cut into his thoughts, interrupting him from his minor spiral. A weird sense of relief flooded his chest at the unconscious help, the teen nodding. 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind grabbing a bag,” He said, his raspy voice lilting at the end of his words so the sentence would be posed as a question. Dream nodded, looking around the area until finding himself a burlap sack, about half the size of his body and probably best suited for grains. Tommy nodded approvingly, the two of them shifting away from Sapnap and Ghostbur as they had their own conversation and going off to the mid-ground between him and the village. 

Tommy had felt bad about poaching the local crops at first before survival had beat out the guilt. In an attempt to make it better for the both of them, he had decided to make his farm in the midst of the field, treating it as a community farm that could be kept by the both of them and used generously for those who needed it. In the end, he was the only one using it, save for a child who would come around now and then to steal a few carrots for the pigs kept at their homes. 

Dream did his best to start quiet conversations with Tommy, most of which went unanswered by the tired teen. Tommy wasn’t sure how much sleep he had actually gotten in that week, let alone the last two months he had been on his own. It certainly wasn’t much, not by the way his disk was getting worn out of love around the ends, the red tape in the middle starting to peel ever-so-slightly. 

It was simply another reminder that time was still going on without him there. That people were moving on and living their lives without him in L’manberg. If it wasn’t clear in the way that no one came to visit it was certainly clear in the way that his rare visitors would come back slightly more well-dressed than before. He was sure he had even caught Ranboo with silver cufflinks for his suit by the Nether portal on one of his rare visits there. Tommy hadn’t visited the main hub in a long, long time, not wanting to taunt himself with what he couldn’t have despite how much he might have deserved it. 

“D’you know they’ve built a Christmas tree in the SMP?” Dream asked off-handedly, Tommy stiffening as he brought it up. The older man went on without stopping, rambling on. “It’s really nice, honestly. A good show of community and all that. Last I heard, Fundy and Tubbo were even making a chessboard, and Punz was planning a secret Santa for everyone on the server.” Dream stopped in the midst of his sentence, hiding a smile behind a potato as he plucked it from the ground. 

“Save for you, of course.” 

Tommy’s hands tightened around his vegetables, yanking a trio of carrots out of the ground by their stems harshly, dirt raining into the rest of the crops from the force of his actions. Sapnap seemed to have heard the end of their conversation, shouting over to Dream from where he was standing chatting with Ghostbur, a smile on his face. 

“Let’s go see the tree!” He exclaimed, a happy smile on his face as he waved the pair over. Dream had already started walking forward, Tommy following automatically simply out of habit. He was always walking alongside people back at home, it was second nature to go along with someone despite what he was doing. Maybe it could have been attributed to him being clingy, but he didn’t want to think about that at the moment. 

No, he was focusing on the part about going to see the Christmas tree in the  _ SMP _ . The part of the lands he had been banned from. Tommy knew it was a stretch to hope that he would be given an exception, but he couldn’t help the small jolt of hope that followed with Sapnap’s declaration. The group of them took turns going into the nether portal closest to Tommy’s tent, purple mist swirling around them and thrumming with dark magic as it transported them to the hellscape. 

Sapnap and Ghostbur were at the front of the group, Dream behind and Tommy just barely keeping up. It had been a while since he had been in the Nether himself. He never needed anything from it, and Phil’s old warnings of the way the dark magic would influence his mind was a horror story he kept in the back of his mind as a cautionary tale. 

“It’s a really nice tree,” Ghostbur was saying as Tommy took hold of the world around him once more, steel-toed boots clicking against the ground. “It’s got ornaments and tinsel and the baubles, and Puffy’s making those little strings of popcorn that you hang around as decoration that you really should be eating.” 

A half-hearted smile followed his ramble, the expression dropping as he watched the portal come into eyesight. He looked to Dream for a moment, face hidden behind a porcelain mask that he had never seen the man without before. Tommy hesitated before he spoke up, voice quiet and near-breaking. 

“Can I go see the tree?” He asked, “Just for a moment?” 

Dream chuckled quietly, axe swung over his shoulder and held carefully between the supernatural’s deft fingers. “Of course not, Tommy.” 

His heart sank in his chest, and he faded from the conversation once more. Tommy hardly registered Sapnap entering the portal in an attempt to mock him, Ghostbur and Dream following suit to mock him about how he couldn’t go to the one place he had been missing for the past two months. The portal thwooped thrice before going silent once more, purple and violet pooling on the Blackstone as Tommy sunk to his knees on the platform. 

The teen found himself sitting at the edge, legs overhanging a lava pool carelessly as his gaze shifted from his hands to the lava that took up most of the bottom of the hellscape. 

  
Tommy knew what it was like to be burnt, in multiple ways no less. There were faint memories of him burning his tongue in the Antarctic on hot chocolate too hastily downed in an attempt to warm his seven-year-old bones in the dead of winter night. There were memories of his accidental burning of Tubbo’s home that ended with him rooting through burning chests to save things he knew Tubbo cherished while the teen tried his best to save them. There were recent memories of fireworks and TNT and withers and explosions that plagued his mind with whispers he could never find himself ignoring. 

He wondered what it would be like to burn in lava, idly. The glowing orange and red was tempting, and he could imagine the flames licking up his charred arms and burning his face to ash and nothingness, turning from agony to blackened remains to bones to nothing but little bits of his soul floating in the hellscape. It certainly sounded more painful than living through what he was, but it would last for less time in comparison to the rest of his life. 

  
After each of his respawns, there was one thing he found a constant. 

A black void of nothing, a hum of music and guitar with soft tunes reminiscent of his time in the Antarctic, and a sense of relief that coated him like a blanket and sweetened his tongue like honey. It was so comforting that he had always woken from his previous two deaths with warm tears trickling down his cheeks. 

Tommy could imagine the blackened void of nothingness now, and it was so much more appealing than where he was now. He shifted slightly where he was sitting, moving to let himself lean forward and close his eyes, grip slipping from hot Blackstone as- 

A hand yanked him back by his shoulder, throwing him to the middle of the path. Tommy pried his eyes open as he sat up incredibly slowly, energy drained from the day as he squinted in the dark biome to see Dream’s mask clearly. A familiar anger welled in the pit of his stomach as he turned back to the lava, only to be yanked to his feet. 

“It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy, “ Dream murmured, voice gentle in comparison to the rest of his actions. Tommy felt his heart twist in his chest as his traitorous mind darted to Wilbur and his warm voice comforting him as he was on the verge of tears. 

There were no tears to be found as Tommy mumbled a reply, equally as soft as Sapnap and Ghostbur returned through the portal. “It’s never my time to die.” 

The quartet made their way back, Tommy and Dream wordless as the teen’s thoughts drifted away once more, fighting to hold onto the void he promised himself he’d return to when things were too much. 

* * *

Dream came around again during one of his excursions. Told him to throw his armour in a pit and handed him the TNT and a lighter. Tommy argued back for a moment before being threatened with the prospect of no visits anymore The idea of being alone with his thoughts was worse than no armour, so he bowed his head and followed through with what the supernatural wanted him to do. 

* * *

The next time Dream came around, Tommy didn’t argue much, waiting for him to dig out the hole and dropping his armour in, barely used in the process. 

* * *

After a week and a half, he stopped making himself armour, and scars built upon his arms once more. 

* * *

Another week passed, and Dream was the only one who had visited him. Ranboo had come along but only once, disappearing as soon as he made eye contact with Dream. It left Tommy with an odd sense of hurt in the pit of his stomach. 

* * *

Two weeks more and Tommy waited on Dream’s visits anxiously, finding them to be the only thing that would soothe his ever-turning mind. He made himself a home away from the Nether portal in an attempt to get away from the lava pool and gunpowder that haunted his nightmares. 

* * *

During his time in solitude, one other person did come over while he was working on a screaming station for himself in the Nether.

It was the last thing he was expecting, really, so he had reacted harshly when he was startled by a hand on his shoulder and a shouting voice in his ear he hardly recognized from how long it had been since he heard the older teen. Jack Manifold was a force to be reckoned with in the case you were in a comedy club and the prize was a stupid pair of 3D glasses, but other than that, he was harmless, if not a bit rude when he was making his jokes. 

Tommy never minded the jokes: they were similar to his own and made him laugh like nothing else could. He couldn’t really remember how to laugh the way he did before, explosive and stomach-hurting in a way that brought tears to his eyes and made him bend over half-way to try and keep himself steady. Tommy couldn’t really remember any type of emotion that made him feel that strongly in a long while now, the months between now and his first day being exiled seemingly stretched out until they were the only thing that had mattered. 

Even his screaming station was turning out to be a poor excuse of a task to keep his hands busy and away from scratching away at his own arms. His arms were already bandaged all the way up to his shoulders and hidden under Wilbur’s brown coat, leaving him colder than before in comparison to the way he should have felt enveloped in warmth that he hadn’t felt in a long while. 

Anything that took energy dragged at his limbs so much more than they previously had before, leaving him to drag his feet lethargically in an attempt to make himself a busy schedule that would occupy his thoughts before anything else could. It was effective, in the case that Tommy moved up on his feet, and that was rare in the sense that his energy was depleting so rapidly that his body couldn’t keep up with him. Caffeine had long since abandoned the way that it would make him speed up, only proving to make his thoughts louder and that was something he absolutely wanted to avoid. 

It was ironic, considering how silent it was in Logstedshire. There was no one there to talk to save for Dream and himself, and the thought of speaking to himself was eerily similar to Wilbur’s own descent into chaos that made him uncomfortable in a way that made up his resolve not to speak a word to himself when no one else was around. 

  
In a way, the silence echoed in his mind louder than his friends ever could, in the sense that everything was so much clearer when allowed to sit and think. 

At least he could use his screaming station as a thinking station in the case that it didn’t work out, Tommy reasoned with himself in a rare burst of optimism, making careful note to seal the blocks to each other with magic that was strong enough to make sure that the wood would stay solid against the netherrack, unable to budge a muscle unless broken manually. It was one of those spells that everyone knew, implemented into them like it was breathing. 

Bad was one of the few, along with Dream and Ranboo, who knew deeper forms of magic through honing their hybrid sides, most notably the usage of inventory-like spaces that would spawn in something of a void, and their ability to carry Ender chests in those inventories as a portable storing system. It was nothing like the shulker boxes Tommy had grown up with while he was in the Antarctic, something different entirely. 

Not to mention Ranboo’s natural ability to teleport without the use of Enderpearls, mostly due to the fact he was half-Enderman in the first place. It was this fact that stopped him from killing the creatures in front of the other teen, not wanting to drive away one of his only friends who came to visit him in his time of need and loneliness that never lied to him. 

Ranboo was someone he could rely on, though sometimes the similarities between him and Tubbo were enough to leave him choking back tears in the way that made him wish he had never been born into a world cruel as this one. On the other hand, his gentle disposition paired with awkward humour was enough to keep him going some days, where he would otherwise give up on tasks and go back to lay in bed again. 

He was generally the one to keep him motivated enough to try and do better for himself, just his presence enough to make him want to try and do better, if not to look better in his eyes or try to keep himself energized enough to remember to eat in front of other people so they wouldn’t worry. Ranboo was the one who had suggested that he let out all his feelings, so it wasn’t very out-of-place that he was in the Nether now. 

As he was in the midst of placing another woodblock to seal against the netherrack, he was greeted with the clap of a hand on his shoulder and the loud shout of “TOMMY! Haven’t seen you in so-” 

He couldn’t explain why Jack had startled him so much, but his first instinct to swing at him with a pickaxe was the wrong move entirely, hitting the teen in the face with the tool and nearly knocking the man off of the netherrack platform they were standing on. He gasped quietly, reaching out to grab him before being put to a halt with an angry shout that rivalled the hurting that he had already felt when it came to being lonely.

“What the hell, man?!” Tommy’s heart sank in his chest as he backed up slightly, the look on Jack’s face frightening him slightly. He wasn’t sure if the teen was upset just to be upset or if he was genuinely angry without any humour behind it, but after the past months, he found it difficult to figure out which one it was that he was confusing with what. 

“Are you alright, Jack? I- I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to what was around me, I didn’t mean to hit you, you just sorta snuck up on me-” His hands were held up placatingly but he was still interrupted by the older teen shouting a word of denial.

“No! No, I’m not  _ okay,  _ Tommy!” He said, furious, one hand clasped over his cheek where blood trickled out from between the small gaps of his fingers. Tommy flinched back slightly, hands tightening around the pickaxe as he took in a deep breath, ready to apologize in the way that Dream had burnt into the forefront of his mind after countless trips to Logstedshire. 

Jack didn’t give him a chance to speak as Tommy opened his mouth to apologize, speaking over him. 

“Here I was, on my way over to see you because I learned you were exiled a couple of weeks ago-” His heart creaked in his chest at the words; only a couple of  _ weeks _ ? “-And I see my good  _ pal,  _ Tommyinnit making a little hut for himself so I come to say hi and you slice my face open?” 

Tommy winced at the words, reaching into his satchel to search through it with bandage-covered fingers, stumbling over his words as he grew nervous under Jack’s angry gaze, the first contact he had outside of Ranboo and Dream in near months. 

“I- I swear, I didn’t mean to, Jack, just- Fuck, um, wait a second, I- I have a p-healing, healing? Or regen pot in here somewhere, please just…” His voice trailed off as he looked through the bag, hands shaking slightly as he fought to blink back tears. Everything was slowly beginning to become overwhelming, leaving him with bleary eyes and ringing in his ears. 

He pulled out a fire resistance potion, the only glass jar in his satchel. He looked up to Jack through blurry vision, who seemed to have calmed down slightly in the time it took for him to search through his bag. Maybe there was still hope for him to invite the teen back to Logstedshire and stick around for a bit. 

Tommy moved to toss him the bottle and knew he had messed up the instant he threw it, the mason slipping from his sweaty fingers too soon and swinging over a small gap in a clean arc, shattering just in front of Jack’s feet and staining his shoes orange with glass shards covering the bottom half of his legs. 

“For fucks  _ sake,  _ man!” Tommy flinched at the words, backing up until his back was pressed against the last log he had left standing up at the end of his screaming station while Jack shouted. Most of it went in one ear and out the other as the other stomped off eventually, but there was one set of cutting words that had left another scar in his already jagged soul. 

_ “God, no wonder no one comes to see you! Would hate to be around a fuckin’ prick like you, man, maybe Tubbo had the right idea, having you banished!”  _

When Tommy went back to Logstedshire that day, his arms were rewrapped with worse wounds than before and tear tracks dried to his cheeks in the time he stared at the top of his tent, Chirp looping in his thoughts. 

* * *

Things came to a head when Techno, of all people, had dropped by his home to see the state that Tommy had dropped to. 

The teen certainly wasn’t expecting the visit, not by taking what Dream had told him as a margin to base his predictions off of. Save for Ranboo, who had only come when he could sneak past the supernatural, no one had visited unless it was to inconspicuously deliver gifts to him that he would dispose of in nothing short of an hour. It was starting to borderline offend him and was already teetering on the edge of making him saddened by the actions. 

What was it about him that made it so people would throw their things at him as though he were a child to placate and that he would just become happy when he got himself a statue of Tubbo, or that his problems would be solved by a shiny pickaxe? What was it about a pie that gave them the impression he could hug it to sleep and it’d keep him warm when chills spread up his body? 

There were no memories attached to anything he was given, not anymore. No mining trips that earned him a pickaxe and armour with his friends, no building session that he would have a nice house to reminiscence in by the end of the hours he would spend laughing and cracking jokes. 

One of the only gifts he cherished had been from Dream himself, funnily enough. It was a channelling trident the man had gifted him in the midst of a rainstorm after a failed attempt of a party after he had gotten the chance to play with the Riptide one that let him fly through the skies in pouring rain. 

He remembered the feeling of his rain-soaked clothes dragging in the air and growing freezing as he reached the darkened sky and snowflakes. He remembered the feeling of the Void once more, and if Tommy squinted, he could spy stars just in his peripheral vision and a hand outstretched to him before falling to the ground once more, his moment of solitude breaking. 

Techno’s visit had come a while after Ghostbur had disappeared with his blue, so in hindsight, it shouldn’t have been surprising that the man had decided to come around and see how he was doing. It didn’t stop Tommy from burrowing further into his blankets as he heard hooves running up to his campsite, thumping across the ground unevenly as the steed came to a halt. 

Tommy had been in bed all day, now. The sun had nearly kissed the horizon as the sky turned red, leaving shadows and figures poking through the side of his tent facing the sunset. The flaps were closed, zipped up and solid in their foundation as Tommy gazed blankly at the cloth across him. His thoughts were sluggish yet a million miles an hour at the same time, leaving him with a juxtaposed frame of mind that left him spinning in his deathbed, blinking slowly. 

“Nice place you’ve got going for yourself, huh, Tommy?” Techno’s monotone voice came, echoing through the campsite with thinly-hidden amusement that Tommy could recognize only through years of experience. He didn’t budge from where he laid. He had half a mind to, but the energy spent to even push the covers off of him was something that he didn’t want to risk losing, treating his stamina as though it were something he needed saving before he could physically stand. 

The teen didn’t react as Techno unzipped the flap of his tent, pulling it to the side and cutting himself off from the beginning of a sentence as he took note of the state the blond was in. 

He looked terrible, probably. Tommy was still donning Wilbur’s coat, leaving him to look smaller in his current state than he probably would have on a good day. Malnutrition born from lack of motivation was beginning to eat at his skin and bones already, leaving his hands to look more of a skeleton rather than a human’s, as well as making the bags under his eyes appear darker. His little exposure to the sun nowadays had him pale as well, ready to rival Ghostbur’s own appearance. From the way Techno was caught off-guard at Tommy’s appearance, he guessed that the pigling had thought he was a ghost at first as well. 

It was a little funny if he thought about it, but his thoughts were slow and his mind was muddled so tears slipped from his eyes instead. 

Techno had moved to kneel down in front of him during that time span, hands moving to take the blankets off of Tommy’s shivering body, which should have been overheating in the layers he had. He was always cold, nowadays. 

“You alright, kid?” Techno asked, his monotone voice softened to one that he hadn’t heard in a long while, not since he was a child in the Antarctic and had broken a cup in Phil’s kitchen that he cried over. Techno had patted him on the back, given him a bandaid, helped him clean up, and took the blame when the child got found out. It was one of his fonder memories and only served to hurt more as he remembered it, knowing he had ruined it for himself as he did so many others. 

His lack of answer was taken as a bad thing, the older piglin mumbling a curse under his breath to himself as Tommy came back to the real world, moving to get up. A jolt of fear ran through Tommy and he moved to grab his sleeve, eyes wide as he looked up to his brother, pleading in his voice just barely making it through the thickness that held his throat closed. 

“Please don’t leave me,” He said, rasp so quiet that it was barely over a whisper that his sore throat could manage to push out from his mouth. Techno replied by sinking to the ground in front of his bed, lacing his fingers with one of Tommy’s hands and squeezing gently. 

“I’ll be here, okay? You look… you look tired, Toms. Get some rest, yeah?” 

  
_ I’m always tired,  _ he wanted to say,  _ and nightmares keep me from any true rest I could get in this hellscape of an exile.  _

But he was tired, and his energy was spent up, so he said nothing, eyes fluttering shut as Techno pulled out what looked to be his comm, typing out a message one-handed as he made sure to keep a grip on Tommy, as though keeping him grounded. With his track record, he probably needed it to remember that he was a real person who could hurt and bleed. 

“Is…” His voice was gravelly, leaving him to cough a bit before he spoke again. “How long’s it been?” Techno’s eyebrows furrowed as he finished sending off his message, looking to Tommy again. 

“Since what?” 

“Since everything went wrong,” He breathed, eyes far away though they gazed right into Techno’s. The man felt his heart clench in his chest at the out-of-character behaviour, hesitating to speak before being interrupted once more. 

“I wanna go, Techno,” He said, face twisting slightly as his grip on Techno’s hand got tighter, squeezing it to remind him it was there. “I really want to go, but I- I haven’t ‘cause I knew that ‘bur would be upset, but  _ Techno- _ ” 

There was a hint of desperation in his tone as his voice broke into a sob, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat as Techno shushed him gently, eyes darting to the flap of his tent. 

“-Wil’s been gone a couple days, Techno, I dunno where he’s gone,” He cried softly, burying his face in Techno’s shoulder as the man maneuvered the teen out of the blankets to rest his head on his shoulder, blocked off by the white fur of his infamous cape, though it was a deeper red than he remembered. “Everyone’s g-gone, Tech. Dream hasn’t even visited in a while. No one’s left, I dunno what to do, I don’t  _ know _ . I never f-fucking knew anything and people kept acting like I did, and Techno I don’t want to know things anymore, I don’t want to. I want  _ Wil,  _ Techno.” Tommy’s voice was tearful and jabbed Techno in the heart where he thought it was near-impossible. The man spoke quiet words to shush him against cold, red-tipped ears that had been pressed into his shoulder.

Techno rubbed a hand through his hair, cradling the back of his skull gently as he hushed Tommy, fingers scratching lightly at the ends of greasy strands that seemed to have been unwashed for a long while. He shivered against the man’s body, pale frame shaking as Techno spoke gently, voice careful to walk on eggshells around him. 

“Wil came to fetch me and Phil,” He said quietly, “He was worried about you, Tommy. Phil’s been, too, but you know how he can get when he starts projects.” 

A sniffle, then silence. Techno took it as a sign to continue speaking. 

“You remember how he was when he decided he wanted to build a new wing in the library for Wilbur? We’d spent hours trying to convince him to come have snowball fights with us and he’d just wave us off, pretendin’ he couldn’t see us so he could make his little space perfect for us to come along with Wil,” Techno recounted, voice soft and lulling as he spoke in comparison to his normal harsh words. Tommy had stopped shaking as he spoke, tears slowly drying against soft white fur. 

“And we bothered him so much he eventually had to come down to tell the guards to stop sending us away when we came over. D’you, remember how he was when he finally finished vamping up the library?” Techno questioned. Tommy blinked blearily into his shoulder, sniffling again. 

“... He spent every day wid us,” Tommy mumbled, words slurring slightly. “For almod… two week...s?” Techno nodded at the answer, hand repeating its rhythmic motion in Tommy’s hair. 

“This is a little like that, yeah? You didn’t…” Techno sighed. “You never did anything…  _ wrong,  _ Tommy. You did what you thought was right. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

Techno’s gaze flicked over Tommy’s thin, frail body, tear tracks stained into white cheeks that contrasted so harshly with his eyebags he thought he was looking at a skull. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” He repeated, quieter. Tommy thought he heard the distinctive noise of wings flapping before floating off into nothing, the void of sleep coming to him with open arms that he knew better than to take for granted, no matter who came to his aid in his time of need. 

He could only hope that when he awoke, it would be to Wilbur Soot and Fungi the fox rather than Ghostbur and Technoblade.

**Author's Note:**

> this is such a monster fic that i cannot believe i wrote it in like, what, three days? it was also incredibly self-indulgent as i got a chance to vent once more, so cheers to that! i really hoped that u liked reading and that u'll wait on the more comforting part of this series while i recuperate and watch mcc tmrw lol. have u guys seen wilbur's new song, btw? i watched the premiere and fell in love im ngl 
> 
> anyway, thoughts on the fic? feel free to comment, and thanks for reading! hope u enjoyed, or u emotionally wounded urself the way u were planning to when u read the tags on this and decided to click anyway :-)


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